


Transfixed

by De_muir_eyes



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Homophobia, M/M, Not Nerdy Tho, spaceship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2018-09-28 01:33:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10061894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/De_muir_eyes/pseuds/De_muir_eyes
Summary: Just the day before Newt and the crew of the WCKD spaceship are about to leave Earth forever, two strangers are thrown into the mix. Will the infinitude of space offer Thomas and Teresa freedom, or will the confines of the ship prove a prison? Why are they leaving Earth so hurriedly in the first place? Of course, it would all have been a lot easier for Newt if Thomas wasn't so damn handsome...





	1. Stargazed

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm jobless and extremely bored at the moment, really felt like writing and actually doing something, but couldn't quite find the inspiration to start. That is, until I found an absolutely stellar music album on Spotify, called Transfixed (by some Swedish guy, August Wilhelmsson). The music just lent itself to a story, so each chapter will be named after its corresponding track on the album. I would certainly recommend to listen to it along with this story, because the two truly go hand in hand. 
> 
> https://play.spotify.com/album/0l7IEfGozsxpUPkBp6wcnh 
> 
> (Someone please let me know if the link doesn't work)

So, this was it. This was goodbye, forever. No “ _I’ll see you soon!_ ”, no _“We’ll have to catch up!”_ , no “ _Come back safe!”_ – this was final, absolute, irreversible. Once he was gone, he would never come back. It was goodbye to all his friends, his family, anyone and anything he had ever known. This was what Newt had dreamed of, for years, ever since he had done a school project on the expedition to Keplar 2-B. He had known, from then on, that he wanted to explore the great vastness of space.

But no amount of eager anticipation could have prepared Newt for the real thing. Just a day before they were to depart, he was feeling – of all things – nervous. Not the excited nervous, but a nervous which made his body clench in fear, made him really wonder if he was doing the right thing. Never before had it occurred to him that this might be a bad idea. Never before had he really considered the consequences of leaving behind everything that he knew, of plunging, eyes wide open, into the unknown.

But perhaps that had been what drew Newt to the idea in the first place – chartering the unknown, immersing himself in the unknown. Perhaps it had been a desire to not simply follow the too-often tread path of normalcy and to do something a little _mad_. Whatever it was, he was here now, and tomorrow their spacecraft would take flight, never to return.

Newt frowned. Why was it just today that he had begun to feel these dreadful nerves? Why not yesterday, when his friends and family had seen him for the last time? Why not a week ago, when he had moved into his room aboard the ship? Why not two months ago, when he was told that his application had been accepted and he would have to begin training immediately? Today wasn’t even a special day, probably the most boring day of the whole week leading up to the launch. Just a bunch of last minute preparations and adjustments.

Their ship, the _WCKD_ , was quite small, by spacecraft standards. Big enough for just under 30 people, no bigger. Its main area, a huge artificial greenhouse, would serve to feed the crew both in space and when they landed, and was tended to by the majority of those on board. The engine room, towards the front, was presided over by Gally, the head engineer, and his gang. On one side was a row of 30 bedrooms; Newt’s was right at the end, number 29. The last room was empty. On the other side were a number of games rooms, a small cinema, the mess hall and kitchens, a storage area towards the back and the control room towards the front. It was not luxuriant, there was too much white everywhere, the automatic doors sometimes got stuck, and the corridors were kind of cramped. But it would do.

For two months they would be in space, hurtling towards their target planet at unbelievable speeds. Newt didn’t really know how it all worked, he just knew that it did work, and that was good enough for him. The planet awaiting them was apparently not dissimilar to Earth, but quite a bit smaller and with more oceans. Theirs would not be the first ship to land there, but they would be part of a larger team of explorers, mapping the new continents, discovering. It was everything that Newt had been looking for most of his life.

Newt decided to have a shower before breakfast. It would no doubt be a rather tedious day, and he was hopeful that a warm shower would tease those nerves out of his mind. When he was done, he chucked on a light shirt and a pair of blue jeans, tousled his blond hair a little, and left his room for some porridge.

“Ava, I don’t want to sound disrespectful, but surely you can see this from my point of view!”

“I am afraid that I cannot, Alby. These two are willing to help, they won’t need much training, and I’m sure –“

“But –“

“Need I remind you just how much money has been paid to secure them a position here?” Ava Paige, director of the company funding the _WCKD_ ’s expedition, stood opposite Alby, glaring rather pointedly at him. “You will find a way to make this work, Alby. That’s why I made you captain.”

“I just don’t understand why they can’t wait for the next ship to leave.” Alby was sulking a little, sullen eyes darting anywhere but into Ava Paige’s own.

“And frankly, you never will. Now you make them very comfortable, pet, and I’ll see you tomorrow, seven o’clock.”

“Seven o’clock.”

Newt could hear the clicking of the middle-aged woman’s heels as she walked away. He waited for Alby to storm off before properly exposing himself from the corner which he’d been hiding behind. He was unsure what Alby and Ava had been arguing about, but whatever it was, it had certainly riled Alby up. Newt had only ever known him to be quite level-headed, often seemingly apathetic, even in the face of the more serious problems which the ship and crew had seen. Newt grimaced. Perhaps today wouldn’t be quite so boring after all.

When Newt entered the mess hall, the clamour of cutlery scraping on plates was just subsiding. It seemed that he was last to arrive. Alby motioned to him to sit down, telling him that he could get breakfast in a minute.

“Everyone,” the captain bellowed, “I’ve got an announcement!” Most sitting near the head of the table turned their heads, mildly interested, but a couple at the other end continued chatting in hushed tones. “Oi, listen up shanks!” Alby threw a bread roll at the offenders, hitting Winston with a dull thud. The table quietened.

“Ava saw me this morning, and she’s… decided that our crew could, uh, do with a couple more.”

Chuck, the youngest – and pudgiest – member of the crew glanced at Newt, eyebrows drawn together. Similar looks were being exchanged across the room, along with some murmurs. Gally piped up. “How many are there?”

“Just two,” replied Alby curtly. “That’s how many a couple is.”

“But we’re leaving tomorrow – when are they gonna be trained?” This time it was Minho, the second-in-command, who spoke up.

“Ava said they grew up on a farm, so I guess they won’t need much training. Honestly though, guys, I don’t know. I don’t like this any more than you do.” Alby looked rather defeated, tired eyes scanning the faces of his crew. “All I know is that we need to be welcoming enough. Ava especially insisted that they be welcome.” He got up and left the room, adding “I’ll go bring them in.”

“This is shucked!” Gally wore a look of total indignance on his face, his oversized nose flaring, mouth drawn tight. “What makes them so special? There’s no way that these shanks can waltz in and pretend they’re part of us! Not when we were the ones who were chosen.” His fists were clenched, and he looked like he was going red in the face. Newt wasn’t quite so sure why Gally was so adamantly against seeing some new faces. “And there’s no way that I’m going to be ‘welcoming’ to a couple of greenies. If Alby asks where I am, tell him to go shuck himself.” With that, Gally got and left the room. A couple of his cronies passed some nervous glances about, then followed him.

Newt broke the stunned silence with the scraping of his chair. He might as well grab some porridge while they were waiting. Inside the kitchen was Frypan, cleaning a pot. “Morning, Newt!” he called out. “There’s some porridge, still warm, in the saucepan. You can heat it up if you want.”

“Nah, warm is fine.” Newt poured the sludge into a bowl, found some honey and spooned it on top.

“You’re the only one who likes that stuff, you know. The oats, I mean.”

“Yeah, well, it must be the English in me.” Newt found a spoon while Frypan chuckled. “Did Alby tell you the –“

“Yeah. Yeah he did. I can’t say it matters much to me, just a couple more mouths to feed.”

Newt nodded his appreciation for the breakfast, and left Frypan to his dishwashing. His bowl was a little full, and he had to walk carefully to avoid spilling. He was so focussed on that little blue bowl, that he didn’t even notice that the two greenies were standing in front of him. Only when he looked up to find his seat did he see them, standing there, looking nervous as anything.

They both had raven black hair, the girl’s a little frizzier. Both had rather fine features, and Newt supposed that the girl could even have been called beautiful. But the _boy_ , the boy was especially handsome. Cognac eyes, fluttering eyelashes, a little mole on his neck. He was tanned naturally, likely from the farm. His eyes searched the table in front of him for a friendly face, and Newt hoped very much that they would land on his.

Of course, Newt’s body decided that now would be the very best time to spill the porridge on the floor. His eyes widened in panic as his breakfast dribbled to the floor. He moved to steady the bowl, but overcorrected, so that the sludge now poured onto his shoes. “Shuck it!” He only had half of his breakfast left in his bowl. “Sorry Alby, I’ll go clean it up.”

“Shank!” called out Alby after him.

 

***

 

Thomas watched the blond boy run off into the kitchen. He’d been staring at Thomas, he was sure.

“That was Newt,” apologised Alby, before turning his attention to the rest of the crew. “As I was saying, Teresa and Thomas grew up on a farm in…”

“Wisconsin,” Teresa chimed in.

“Right. So they will understand the basics of what to do in the greenhouse, and will probably only need to learn the particulars of growing plants in space. As I said earlier, I want you all to make them feel very welcome. Gally’s absence has not gone unnoticed by me, I promise you that. For him, there will be consequences. You must all understand that these two are just as integral to our team as any other shank sitting in front of me.”

The blond boy – Newt – had returned, and was cleaning up the remains of his breakfast. Thomas noticed that he still had some on his shoes.

“Your case is quite irregular, Teresa, as this mission was originally planned to be all-male, to complement the all-female ship which left two days ago. The protocol which we have to follow demands that you get your own room, but that no one else can enter it.” Thomas and his sister exchanged worried glances.

“But –“

“However I do appreciate that you would want to be close to her Thomas, so I’m putting you up in the room next to Teresa. She’ll be in Room 30, and you in Room 29.” Teresa opened her mouth to object, but Alby continued. “Who’s in Room 29?”

There was silence for a couple of seconds before Newt popped his head up from the porridge he was desperately trying to scrub off the floor. “That’s my room, Alby.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. _Of all people_ , thought Thomas, _why the one who was staring at me?_

“Right. Well, Thomas, it looks like you’ll be boarding with Newt. Try to make sure he doesn’t spill anything on you.” Newt was beaming at Thomas, who flashed a quick, rather insincere smile back. He was already nervous enough, without having to share a room with someone who had spilled porridge because they were staring at him. That was the last thing he needed right now.

Teresa squeezed his arm. “It’s alright,” she mouthed, “I’ll be fine.” Thomas felt ashamed that it was never her that he was worried about.

“You two should go unpack your things. When Newt is done, he can show you around the ship. The rest of you,” Alby turned around to those sitting at the table, “I’ve got a list of the last-minute checks we need to make. First of all, Zart, can you make sure that the Medjacks have…” Thomas zoned out. He could hardly believe that this was his life now. Condemned to near isolation, excommunicated from his own goddamn planet. Alby’s voice droned on, and on, and on, exhausting. Thomas settled into his stupor, reflecting on the past few days. The screams, the tears, the punch. That smell of blood. The flight over here, the old woman waiting for them at the terminal. The short, wordless car ride to the launch pad. The sunrise, illuminating the _WCKD_ in gold and pink.

“We should go, Tom.” Teresa pulled on his arm, as Newt led them to their rooms.

“Room 30,” he announced, and Teresa stepped inside. “And, um, Room 29. That’s us.” He opened the door, and to Thomas’ surprise, the room was actually quite large. A bed on one side, on the other a large wardrobe with mirrors for doors. On the back wall hung a large picture of a city, somewhere. There was a sliding door at the back right corner, which led to an ensuite, complete with not only a shower, but a bath too, a sink and a toilet. “I do hope that you don’t mind sharing, it’s just I’m not sure there’s any way around it.” Thomas smiled at Newt, this time a little more genuinely.

“I’m sure I’ll be quite fine. Thank you, though, Newt.”

“Um, I’m just going to move some of my clothes, so you have a place to put all yours.” Thomas hadn’t brought too many clothes, so it didn’t take much reshuffling on Newt’s behalf before all their clothes were packed away. “You only brought clothes,” Newt observed. “No mementos? No keepsakes? Nothing to remind you of your life here?” Thomas could only shake his head.

It certainly wasn’t that Thomas didn’t want to remember his life on Earth. He had so many fond memories of life: running through cornfields, chasing Teresa; growing his first tomato at home; later, at boarding school, winning first prize in an art competition; sitting with friends on the grass at school; and, of course, his first kiss. His life on Earth had been absolutely idyllic, golden, coloured by a sunrise. But now, the sun had risen, and everything paled in the harsh daylight. Everything was plain to see, in all its ugliness. Nothing was rosy, anymore, and it was pointless trying to pretend that it was. In all honesty, Thomas hadn’t brought anything but clothes with him because he didn’t want even the memories of his previous life to be scorched by the daylight. He wanted them to remain how they were, golden.

“Well,” Newt pointed at the cityscape on the wall, “maybe Sydney here will remind you that you were once an Earthling.” Thomas had never been to Sydney, and he guessed that he never would now. “Perhaps we should find your sister and I’ll give you two the grand tour.” After an acquiescent nod and a knock on Theresa’s door, Newt and Thomas were greeted by a rather teary-eyed Teresa.

“Sorry, I was just…” She wiped a last tear away, and smiled at Newt. “Shall we go?”

 

***

Newt couldn’t understand it. Thomas and Teresa had been given the chance of a lifetime, a chance which thousands had applied for, and yet they seemed not to want it. They would be explorers of the new frontier, great heroes, no doubt. They would see sights unimaginable on Earth, sights that no one in living history has ever seen before. And yet, they would only ever look dazed, as if their world had moved too fast for them. They seemed not think about what they had gained, but rather what they had lost. It would have infuriated Newt, had he not seen how truly confused they both were. Both swapping glances with each other, unspoken words desperately trying to reassure. Particularly in Thomas, there was a forlorn sense of sadness and – oddly enough – shame.

If Newt hadn’t been quite so desperate to make new friends, particularly with Thomas, maybe he would’ve given up. Maybe he would’ve left them to their own miserable faces, to their barely held back tears. But, by God, he wanted to be friends with Thomas. He wanted to be able to test the waters, even if he was sure that nothing would come out of it. He was so glad to be sharing a room with him, even if he had had to rein that excitement a long way in when talking to Thomas.

“Goodnight, Thomas.” Everyone had been ordered to bed early, as Alby was quite sure that anticipation would keep a number of them awake for a while.

“Goodnight.” Newt could hear Thomas’ breathing. He heard him roll over, trying to find a comfortable position on the mattress. He heard him take a sip of water. He heard him trying to fluff his pillow up. He heard him sob a little, too.

“Thomas? Are you awake?” Thomas snorted a little.

“Yeah. You?”

“Obviously.” Silence hung in the air. “Can you… uh, tell me about yourself?”

Thomas inhaled sharply, louder than he had meant to. “No, Newt. I – I’m sorry.”

“Come on, please? I’ll go first…”

“No, Newt! I… no, just please –“

“I was born on a stormy Tuesday –“

“STOP!” Thomas had sat up, his face glistening with sweat, almost as if he had woken up from a nightmare. “Leave me alone Newt. For your sake, for my sake, for God’s sake. Please just let me forget that I’m here.” He fell back down to the mattress, breathing heavily. His lip quivered, and he buried his face in his pillow.

Those heart-wrenching sobs made Newt want to cry himself. This was the sound of someone who was truly, desperately unhappy. He could hardly bear them, as they wracked Thomas’ body. He wanted to go over to the man, to hug him tight, to promise him that everything would work out fine, that this new life would be better. Whatever it was that haunted Thomas, he would try anything to banish it.

He left his bed. Tiptoed over to Thomas. He could make out a hand clenching the pillow in the dim light, veins standing out. Newt slid his fingers into Thomas’.

Thomas froze, Newt could hear it. He didn’t breathe, he didn’t cry, he just froze. What seemed like an hour was little more than a millisecond. And then Newt felt, almost imperceptibly, a thumb, caressing the back of his hand.

“Please go,” whispered Thomas. He ripped his hand from Newt’s and buried himself in the sheets of his bed. Newt crept back to his bed, satisfied.

 

***

 

Thomas didn’t want to wake up the next morning. He didn’t want to see Newt, he didn’t want to see Alby, and he certainly didn’t want to see his life drifting hundreds of miles away from him.

Everything he’d ever done, everyone he’d ever known, it all counted for nothing now. It was as if the first eighteen years of his life were about to disappear, forever. All those moments, just gone to waste. All that happiness, just a lie. All that sadness, just a rehearsal.

He felt hollow. He felt absolutely hollow. Nothing within him had ever meant anything. There was nothing of substance about him. He could imagine his hand pushing into his chest, just below the ribcage. He imagined them pushing into the skin, breaking through, blood starting to ooze out. And then he would get through, and there would just be nothing. No flesh. No blood. No soul. No heart, or lungs, or anything. Just a giant, gaping, black hole. He imagined his fingers curling around the ribcage, pulling it, until there was nothing left holding him up but a spine and the darkness. And then the black hole would break free, dragging his whole body into the blackness.

Underneath the covers, his fingers searched his body for the ribcage. Every time he pushed in a little, his stomach tensed up. He couldn’t push any harder.

“We’d better get up!” Newt was smiling like an idiot. “Today’s the big day.” Thomas dared not reply.

Ava Paige was waiting with Alby as the crew filed in to the mess hall. She too, was smiling with glee, although Alby’s rather more dour expression seemed a little more appropriate to Thomas. “Chop, chop!” she sang. Thomas, Newt and Teresa were the last to arrive, and sat down together at the opposite end of the table to Ava. She beamed once she noticed that they were all there, and powered into her rather clichéd ‘This is the Big Day’ speech.

Newt seemed enraptured, hanging on to every musical word that rang out across the table. Thomas was a little more thankful that they were as far away as possible.

“… people will remember this as… not without dangers… projects at school on this…”

It was gaudy. It was showy and unnecessary. _What’s the point of fame_ , thought Thomas, _if you’re not around to know how famous you are?_ When it was all over, she brought a photographer up with a huge camera, and ordered a bunch of useless, meaningless poses.

“Chat to yourselves, right? Gooood, make sure you get those two, Janson. Alright everybody, um, let’s have everyone stand up, and look busy please… perfect! Ok, Janson, make sure you get a picture of our Alby over here, looking very captain-like!” Ava giggled to herself. Thomas noticed that Alby had clenched his jaw. “Perfect! And now maybe one of our Thomas and Teresa! Mhm, maybe you could try smiling at each other? Um, smile please – Thomas!”

It was an absolute charade. A couple of the crew members were enamoured with it all, but the rest soon realised just why Alby had seemed far from excited.

“Perfect, Janson, I’m sure that all of those photos will turn out just wonderfully! Perhaps we should leave them now, though. Launch-off is in twenty minutes!” A couple of hurried hugs, a special goodbye to Alby, and the odious woman was gone. Forever.

“You heard the shank, buckle up and say your goodbyes to the blue planet!”

In a flurry, Thomas and Teresa were seated next to each other, using the same harness because, of course, the ship was only designed for thirty. Just in front of them was a see-through panel, not quite as clear as a window, nonetheless better than nothing. The speakers rang out at a minute before the launch, thirty seconds before the launch, and counted down from ten.

“Ten…” This was it. Goodbye forever. Goodbye to anyone who had ever known him. “Nine…” Maybe he could change his name, completely forget his old self. “Eight…” No. That would never work. He would only ever be – “Seven…” – Thomas. But maybe this was what he needed. “Six…” Teresa grabbed his arm as best she could; there was little room to manoeuvre in the harness.

“Out in the stars, we’ll find a home, Tom.”

“Five…” The thruster had been turned on, and Thomas could hear only that. Even if Teresa had wanted to keep talking he wouldn’t have heard. “Four…” Maybe, just maybe, with Theresa by his side, he could do this. “Three…” _They_ could do this. “Two…” This was just a new slate to etch into. “One…” He hoped the ship didn’t blow up.

A cacophony of cracks, grunts, screams and whistles assaulted Thomas. It was unbearable. He wished that he’d taken the last pair of earplugs instead of giving them to Theresa.

And then, they were moving. Or rather, the Earth was moving. Higher, higher, they went. Thomas couldn’t make out a tree, then he couldn’t make out a forest. This really was goodbye. There was no turning back, none which they would survive, anyway. The fire beneath them burnt bright, and it burnt hot, and it made everything golden. The world was golden. The trees that disappeared into forests, the houses that disappeared into towns. It was all golden. The rows of corn, where he once chased Teresa, were golden. His boarding school, golden. His first love, golden. Even his parents. Golden. Thomas would never know anything but a golden Earth, a planet of beauty and happiness. As they went higher, higher, he could see the sun, rising in the east. It cast a golden shadow over everything, always. There was never a time when it was not rising nor setting. It would continue to shine, to bathe that world in the pale gold.

The time for gold was over. As the ship began to float, its propulsion finished, Thomas felt rather crazily free. Out here, with nothing around him, he was truly, incomparably free.

Next to him, Newt grinned to himself. Thomas was really, really smiling.


	2. We'll Need a Hero

“What’s the matter, Greenie? Missing mummy and daddy moneybags?” Gally was leering at Thomas, who could do nothing but bite his tongue.

It had been a couple of days since the take-off, and Thomas was starting to second guess just how ‘free’ he was on the ship. A couple of hours since they had left Earth, Thomas had been to see Gally in the hopes of making a friend out of an enemy. When he arrived at the office, he was told by Ben, Gally’s head crony, that the head engineer was elsewhere, repairing a thruster.

So Thomas had waited. He wasn’t due to begin his shift in the greenhouse for a while, and was rather desperate to make amends – although he wasn’t too sure what his mistake had been in the first place. And so Thomas had waited, and waited, and waited. There was a window which he could look through, not that he had any idea what to look for. One bright star seemed no different to the next; one rocky asteroid identical to another. Finally, after an hour and a half of waiting, he began to get a little antsy. Surely a minor repair shouldn’t take that long? Thomas decided to look in to Gally’s office, to ask Ben how much longer he would have to wait.

“Do you know when –“

“Oh, shuck, I thought I locked the door.” Sitting at the desk were Ben and Gally, the former looking embarrassed and the latter looking murderous.

“I – I thought you were fixing the –“

“What do you want, shank?

“Um, well, I just wanted to apologise, I guess,” Thomas managed to stammer out. “You’ve, uh, you’ve made it pretty clear that you don’t really like me – and I kinda get that – but, um, I’d rather we be, you know, friends than enemies…” He could feel his heart beating in his chest, betraying his outwardly calm composure. At least, he hoped that he seemed calm. He certainly didn’t want the bigger man thinking that he could intimidate Thomas.

Gally exchanged a sly smile with Ben, then leaned forward. “You want to be friends, huh?”

Thomas smiled in return, hoping he looked genuine. “I mean, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot, and –“

“Why would I want to be friends with a greenie like you?”

Thomas’ smile faded a little. This perhaps wasn’t going the way he had imagined in his head. “Well, I – we don’t have to be friends, per se, just… not enemies, you know?”

“No, I’m afraid I _don’t_ know.” _Oh shit_ , thought Thomas. The fury from the other side of the room was palpable, and worse still, Gally had gotten up to stand toe-to-toe with Thomas. “You got on this ship just because you’re a rich little wanker, and now you wanna pretend that… what, that you’re one of us?” Thomas tried to interject, but was shouted down. “Don’t you interrupt me! Us here, we earned getting on this shucking ship, we earned the fame and the glory. And then you walk in here, you waltz in here, and you think you can buy that? Not all of us had the shucking luxury to pay our way in! You and your bitch of a sister –“

“Gally, I –“

“I SAID DON’T INTERRUPT ME!” Gally had Thomas pinned up against a wall. Flecks of his spit covered Thomas’ lightly brown skin.

It felt like the world slowed down. Here, in this position, Gally’s hands pushing roughly against his shoulders, Thomas felt almost… calm. His breathing slowed as he gently shut his eyes. The shouting just in front of his face seemed like it was muted, muffled, like Thomas was wearing earphones. He focussed on the wall behind him, feeling how it pressed against his body, flat and undulating. He laid his palms flat against it, spreading his fingers out. An old trick for meditation, he moved his conscience through each of the fingers, feeling the power in his pinkie, then his ring finger, his middle finger, the index and the thumb. Finally, he let the power surge through all of the fingers at once, feeling the tiny grooves in the wall behind him. As he began on his left hand, starting once more with the pinkie, he noticed Gally had released one of his shoulders. Just one. Eyes closed, Thomas could only wait for the blow he was sure would come.

It never did. Instead, his other shoulder was released too. Thomas sank to the ground, no longer being held up by Gally. As his hearing slowly returned, he could make out orders to leave. His legs found power, and he stumbled out of the head engineer’s office, still dazed. He brought a hand to his face, hardly daring to believe that he had escaped unbruised.

Newt had found him standing there, empty-eyed. He had tried to coax the story out of him, somewhat successfully, before covering his shift in the greenhouse.

He covered for him now, too. “Shuck off, Gally.” Thomas eyed him, smiling his appreciation. He wasn’t sure quite why Newt was sticking up for him, but _god_ , did it feel good.

“What’d you say, shank?” It was not Gally who spoke this time, but Ben. He was glowering, a puppy angry that his master had been insulted. “Are you tryna –“

“Shut up!” cried out Alby from the head of the table. “Quit your bickering and go do some work.”

 

***

 

Newt was seething with fury. That Gally and Ben had the gall to even speak to Thomas after what they’d done, it was disgusting. He remembered seeing Thomas there, blank, deadened. He couldn’t understand, why hadn’t Thomas fought back? Of course, Gally was bigger and stronger, and there were two in the room, but surely that was no reason to be so very passive?

“Let’s go get changed, yeah?” Newt offered. “We’ve both got the next shift.”

“Sure.” Newt was so thankful that he and Thomas had become quick friends, not least because they had to share a bedroom. The first night had been hard for Thomas, sure, and the night after that, and last night too. But Newt could tell that it was getting easier. The stifled sobs were gone, replaced by a light sleep. Together, they had made the mattress on the floor as comfortable as possible, with extra blankets and pillows scavenged from the other rooms. Newt had even suggested that they take turns sleeping on it, if it was less comfortable. But Thomas had replied that he preferred to sleep closer to the floor, which, to be honest, had suited Newt perfectly.

The work clothes for those who worked in the greenhouse were the most unattractive, hideous brown overalls. They had a zip at the side, running from the waist to just below the should blade, and were supposedly dirt-repellent, or some such stupid thing. Newt despised them, but even he had to admit that Thomas still looked quite stunning in them – not that he would tell him, of course. He was still quite sure that Thomas wasn’t quite _like him_ , and he certainly didn’t want to take any chances in that regard.

He and Thomas both stripped off their clothes, trying to avoid eye contact as they did so, until –

“You – you’re wearing my underwear.” Thomas was looking at Newt, confused, searching his face for answers. The blond looked down in horror. He had had no intention of wearing Thomas’ underwear, but the drawer where it had all been kept was messy, and he lost track of what was his and what was his roommate’s.

“I… oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise –“

Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose. Newt could almost see the gate between the two close, the blinds pulled down, the door locked. He didn’t want to lose this connection and yet, he could feel it slipping away – all because of an honest accident! “Please just… change them.”

“Thomas, the drawer was messy and –“

“I don’t care that much, I just want you to change them. Please.”

Newt went over to the drawer and made a good show of reorganising it, so that there was a clear divide between the two piles. He then grabbed a grey pair of his own and took them to the bathroom. “Thomas, I’m not… you know…”

“Right,” he called out, a little disbelievingly.

“Well, look…” Deep breath. “I – I am…” Silence. A loud silence, bouncing around the walls, ringing in Newt’s ears. He hurriedly added “but this wasn’t that, yeah?”

“Promise?”

Newt reappeared. He aimed his eyes at the floor, terrified that Thomas had taken everything the wrong way. “Promise.” He lifted his gaze to meet a now fully dressed Thomas. This wasn’t the way that he had imagined things playing out in his head, and yet here it was, a scene he’d both dreaded and anticipated since he’d laid eyes upon Thomas a few days ago. In his head, he had whispered it into Thomas’ ear, causing the brunet to smile, to kiss him hungrily, and mirror his exact feelings. But here, in reality, he was staring at an emotionless face and clenched hands.

“Let’s leave it at that, can we?” Newt could only nod; his mouth was too dry to even speak properly. “And Newt?”

“Yeah?” His voice was crackly and dry, barely strong enough to support that weak sound.

“I don’t – it doesn’t matter to me, really. It won’t bother me.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Suddenly Newt noticed that he’d been holding his breath in. With one almighty exhale, he collapsed on his bed. It felt like it was all he could do to keep breathing, panting, as if he’d just run in a race. He brought his shaking hands to his face as he heard the bedroom door close, let them slide down his cheeks. He swallowed. Lying on that bed, it was as if he were floating, as if he were outside of their damn spaceship, floating in zero gravity. Sleep threatened to overcome him as he lay on the bed, and Newt had to rouse himself to get dressed. Thomas’ words played in a loop around his head, almost making him giddy with joy.

_“Promise?”_

_“Promise.”_

It was not like he had never told anyone before, and it was certainly not like he’d never gotten responses better than this. He’d let it slip to a couple of the guys on the ship, Frypan and Chuck, Winston too, now he came to think of it. He’d told his family before he’d left Earth. No one had reacted badly, no one had disowned him, no one had really battered an eyelid. But Newt was never really worried about all those other people. Frankly, the only person’s approval that he wanted was Thomas’.

_And he had that._

 

***

 

The couple of weeds trying ever so desperately to thrive amongst the cucumber plants were no match for Thomas’ furious hands. Disregarding the spikes on them, he dove into the dirt, searching for the roots. Once he had them, he would grasp the roots, tug as hard as he could, and uproot the imposter. He threw the lifeless bodies in a bucket and moved on.

Why had he been such a _cuck_ about it all? It wasn’t like it was a super important issue, poor Newt hadn’t really done anything _wrong_. _The truth is,_ thought Thomas, _it scared me._ And that was the truth. He didn’t dislike Newt, not at all. And he hadn’t been really angry, not truly. It was just… it was too much for him, too much and too soon. Earth might be millions of miles away, but Thomas certainly wasn’t about to forget it in an instant. There was still a trace of Earth Thomas, and he couldn’t get rid of that, not for a while.

God, he needed to see Teresa. She was the only one that he could turn to. She was the only one who could understand him, who really knew him. The problem was, he wasn’t sure when he would see her. Instead of working in the greenhouse, she had been sent off to work with the engineers, with Gally, of all people. Thomas wasn’t really sure what purpose that was meant to serve – neither Teresa, nor Gally, nor Thomas had supported the idea. But Minho had insisted, had suggested that this would help to better integrate the newcomers, and besides, Teresa had a very good working knowledge of all things mechanical – although her forte was most definitely not rocket science.

“Thomas you’re meant to pull out the weeds, not the vegetables!”

“Ah, shit!” Thomas looked down and realised that Chuck was right, he had managed to mangle most of a cucumber plant. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Chuck, I was, I was daydreaming, I think.”

“You don’t say.” Thomas tried to look as apologetic as possible, and Chuck smiled in sympathy. “It’s fine, I won’t tell no one.” A sigh of relief. “If you’re done destroying the cucumbers, d’you wanna come place some bets on my tomatoes?”

Thomas sent the younger boy a quizzical look, and was led to the tomato patch.

“Zart and I are having a competition of who can grow the best tomatoes. Obviously, I’m a safe bet, because I’ve been growing tomatoes since I was like five years old, but he reckons he can take me. So, what do you say?”

“Am I allowed to say no?”

Chuck grinned devilishly. “Sure, if you want everyone to know how you mercilessly butchered that poor, defenceless, innocent cucumber…”

“Yikes. Well, o great and evil genius, what am I supposed to bet with? We don’t have any money.”

Chuck leaned in, his voice a whisper. “How about secrets?” Thomas could only stare. He began to stammer out an excuse, before Chuck beat him to it. “I’m kidding, you shank, it’s not a shucking secret society. We’re betting a mysterious stash of chocolate, donated anonymously.”

“That sounds even more like a secret society.” Chuck smiled at a relieved Thomas.

“So are you in? So far everyone else has bet on Zart, but they just don’t know how experienced I am.”

“Well, what have I got to lose?” Chuck beamed at Thomas and pulled out a pencil and a slip of paper from his pocket. Thomas could just make out from the other side of the paper a ‘Z’ and a ‘C’. He was a little alarmed to see how long the list under Zart’s name was. It seemed he was just the first to join Chuck’s side. “Did your scheming and blackmailing not work on the others?”

The younger boy’s eyes narrowed before he gave a reply. “Not yet, my friend. Not yet.” Thomas half expected an evil laugh to follow. “Now back to work, and next time, pick on a vegetable your own size.”

 

***

 

When his shift was ended, Newt was unsure if he should return to his room or not. The very, very last thing he wanted to do would be to make Thomas uncomfortable, and he wasn’t too sure if Thomas would be ready to face him, not so soon. He completely understood that Thomas would want some space, just for a while. Weighing the options, he decided to wait for ten minutes, just to ensure that Thomas would have enough time to go in, get changed, and get out.

As he stood, leaned up against a wall, surveying the gigantic greenhouse and its lush verdure, he felt the gravity begin to shift, felt himself tip sideways. It wasn’t much, there was no damage done to any plants, and it was corrected soon after. Newt put it down to having to avoid some piece of space junk or another – although they were usually cleared by the ship’s barriers long before the ship would be threatened. It was unimportant, decided Newt, but perhaps an important reminder of the unpredictability of things out here. A reminder that, however set a course might seem, there was always the opportunity to move things a little, to change course. Maybe this was what the snafu with Thomas was – a minor course change. An obstacle to circumnavigate. It would prove far from life-changing.

Newt made his way back to the room now, hoping that Thomas was finished. He stood awhile in the corridor, indecisive, before deciding to walk in, whether or not Thomas was there. But as he neared the door, he could just make out voices – Thomas and Teresa’s! At first, his conscience told him rather sternly not to eavesdrop. _If it was meant for my ears,_ he thought, _it would have been said to them._ But then his curiosity took over, and pressed him up quietly against the door, where he could still only make out mere snippets of the conversation.

“… and I didn’t know what to do, Teresa, I just sort of freaked out…”

“… this way, Tom? Why do you feel you just have to…”

“… don’t know, okay?! It’s like your fight or flight instinct, I guess. I don’t know if what I did was right, maybe I should’ve…”

“… you let go?”

“Teresa, I can never let go! I can try, and I can try, and I could pretend it never happened, but it did! And I will never forget that it happened, and I will never forgive that it happened, and I will never wish that I was here!”

Thomas had been shouting, and Newt could hear Teresa trying to shush him. He manoeuvred his body so that his ear was right at the hinge of the door, where he could hear a little better.

“Tom, I understand that what happened was shit – hell, I’m here too! But you cannot take that out on Newt. He doesn’t want –“

“Well then, what does he want?!”

“Why are you so against being nice to him?”

“Because… because I’m scared, Teresa, I’m so scared. What if it all happens again?” On the other side of the door, Newt could recognise those tiny, stifled sobs that had wracked Thomas’ body the last couple of nights. Once more, all he wanted to do was go over, give him a kiss, a hug, even just hold his hand. He so desperately wanted to comfort the crying boy. “You’re asking the impossible, Teresa.”

“Tom, Tom. You know I love you, yeah? I would never suggest anything that could hurt you – but I think you need to give Newt a chance to prove himself.”

“I’m sorry, Teresa, but I just… I can’t! I can’t! I can’t do it, I can’t go through it all over again! I – I wanted to leave that old me behind, on Earth, but I just can’t. Please just… just don’t – just don’t say anything to Newt. I won’t let him know that I –“

“Newt!” The blond spun around, looking for whoever had given him away. There, at the far end of the corridor stood Winston. “Newt! What are you –“

Newt shushed him silently, but furiously. He could only hope that Thomas and Teresa hadn’t heard Winston, or that if they had, they simply thought the Newt had just arrived at the room. He could only hope that they didn’t realise he’d been listening in to their very, _very_ private conversation.

“Newt, they want everyone in the mess hall, ASAP! Alby’s got some big announcement to make, and he wants a full crew. Can you tell anyone else that you see?” Newt could only nod. His cover had surely been blown, utterly and completely. As Winston sprinted off, Newt opened his room door to see Thomas and Teresa both sitting on his bed, hands in laps, startled by the sound of the door opening. _Perhaps they didn’t realise_ , he thought. Teresa hurriedly stood up and smiled apologetically at Newt, as if she were a naughty schoolchild caught doing the wrong thing.

“Newt! I was just leaving, sorry.”

“Don’t be – you’re fine. It’s… it’s just that, uh, it’s just that Alby’s got some big important message, or something, I think that’s what Winston said. He’s got something to say, and he, uh, um, he wants everyone in the mess hall.” Newt wasn’t quite sure why he was stammering so much.

“Right. Should we go together, then?”

Thomas smiled weakly at both his sister and at Newt, discreetly wiped his nose, and followed Teresa out of the room. Newt brought up the rear, making sure to maintain a bit of distance between himself and Thomas. He was even warier of making the other boy uncomfortable now that he had heard the conversation. He wondered what it all meant – what had ‘happened’ to Thomas, back on Earth? Why did that prevent him from wanting to be friends with Newt? And why was Teresa sticking up for him?

At the end of the day, Newt only really wondered one thing: what made Thomas cry as he did, so devoid of hope and future? Because those sobs, those heart-wrenching sobs were pure anathema to Newt. He hated them, and he hated what they represented, and he hated that they even existed in the first place. But really, he was none the wiser for eavesdropping. He regretted it now, regretted being so untrustworthy and so curious. Perhaps, had he not heard a thing, he might have felt happier, perhaps felt he was still friends with Thomas. Perhaps he would have been able to deny that little voice in his head, telling him that Thomas was trying to push him away. Perhaps he could have gone on pretending everything was, more or less, fine. But now – now, he knew better.

As the three of them walked into the mess hall, Newt made sure that he sat next to Teresa. She was a perfectly acceptable barrier between Thomas and himself, and she made a particular effort to smile at Newt, which he reciprocated appreciatively. Thankfully, it wasn’t long until the final crew members filed into the hall, still, much like Newt, with their work clothes on.

Alby stood at the head of the table, his face unreadable. In front of him, he had a small portable computer, with some sort of map, it seemed.

“Y’all are probably wondering what this is about. Well, I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news – which do you want to hear first?” The general consensus around the table seemed to be that the bad news should go first, so that everyone could leaving feeling good about the good news. “Alright, well, the bad news is, um, and I don’t really know how to say this, but, uh… late this afternoon, our ship received a message from Earth. Well, a command, really. It wasn’t sent to the crew, mind, it was sent directly to the ship’s control centre.”

“Well,” demanded one of the Medjacks, Niko. “What did it say?”

Alby exchanged a glance with Gally, who took over. “It ordered the ship to change course.” A loud murmur erupted as flashes of confusion were sent around the table. “The problem is that the coordinates that it changed to… they’re the coordinates of one of the biggest black holes in the universe.”

The crew of the _WCKD_ were stunned. Stunned, and silent. They were being sent to their deaths. “So, we’re all gonna die?” asked an obviously terrified Chuck.

“We cannot override the command to the autopilot, no. But…” Alby hesitated. “Honestly, we aren’t yet sure how we’re going to get out of this mess.”

Newt could hardly breathe. It felt as if he was leaving his body – _a little premature for that,_ he thought. But he truly did feel as if he were barely Newt anymore. Everything in his life had been leading up to this trip, everything he’d ever done was to prepare himself for this trip. Ever since he was seven, the only thing he’d ever dreamt about was this trip. His whole life _was_ this trip, this journey, this chance to explore and be cemented into history. Without the trip, really, he had no life. It had nothing to do with whether he could breathe or not, whether his heart could beat or not. Here, all of a sudden, his entire life had been taken away from him before his eyes.

“What we do know is that we _can_ get out of this mess. We still know the coordinates of our original destination, and we are yet to try hacking the system, which will, in all likelihood, work. There will be plenty of ways to get past this, so, please, don’t start worrying too much.”

But Newt _was_ worried. And that emotion was reflected all around the table: opposite him, Ben had his face buried in his hands; beside him, Teresa was ashen-white; beside her, Thomas stared into the distance, blank-faced. Newt could think of nothing to do, had no idea what to say. So he reached out, behind Teresa, and grasped Thomas’ shoulder. He squeezed it.

Thomas turned to Newt, looked him in the eyes. Still, no emotion crept onto his face. He made no attempt to remove Newt’s hand, and it stayed there. “It looks like we’ll need a hero,” he whispered.

“What’s the good news, then?”

Alby turned to Zart, his eyebrows knitted together thoughtfully. “Oh, that. Honestly, I was hoping that you’d ask for the good news first, because it sounds pretty dumb compared to our impending extermination. But, uh, the good news is that we’re having eggplant lasagne for dinner.”


	3. Isotopes

A funereal gloom shrouded the _WCKD_. It was utterly inescapable. It seeped down the pristine white walls, covering them in a smoky grey fear. It dimmed the yellow lights, turning their warmth to a cold hopelessness. Beds, once comfortable havens, were now just stiff mattresses and comfortless blankets; sleep, once restorative, now destructive, bringing only nightmares invariably ending in death. It was the sort of gloom which bore down heavily, pushing each and every crew member closer and closer to the ground. It was angry, and vengeful, and made no apologies for being so. It simply crushed, squeezed, destroyed hope, and left a trail of worry in its wake. It grew stronger with every doubt that flickered into someone’s mind, every glance out of the clear panels into the darkness that somewhere, far away, held their death, and would be their graveyard. It cast a ghostly pallor over the face of every crew member, whitening skin, reddening eyes, blackening scowls.

It was surprisingly calming, decided Thomas, to know when your death was coming, especially when you couldn’t do anything about it. Despite everyone rushing around, trying to circumvent and bypass the command that would send them to their deaths, everything felt slower than usual, as if there were more seconds in a minute, or more minutes in an hour, or more hours in a day. Time almost seemed to stretch for an eternity, long enough for Thomas to grow up, grow old. It was remarkable how easy it was to notice the plasticity of time when, for Thomas, it was coming to an end. He could make that time go as quickly or slowly as he chose; the only thing he could not do, no matter how much he wished, was reverse time.

He wasn’t too sure how far back he would go, given the chance. Perhaps back to before he and Teresa had boarded this stupid spaceship. Or maybe before the fight. Perhaps, if he wanted a chance to start over properly, maybe he’d go back to before he was sent to boarding school. Really, though, if he had the chance, he’d go back to his very first day on Earth, a screaming baby with a screaming twin. There, innocent and uncomprehending, he may still have had an opportunity to change himself, and thus change his course in life.

Here, however, out in space, he could do nothing but regret, wish, and wait for his time to come.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Winston stood in the doorway, his giant bag of washing hanging off his shoulders. Having at first proved quite inept at duties in the greenhouse, as an engineer, and as a cook, he was eventually tasked with being the ‘washing man’, who made the daily rounds to clean dirty laundry. It was a task he had taken on quite happily; it meant that he had little physical work to do – and it meant that he could pick up on anyone’s and everyone’s gossip. He had an almost supernatural ability to know things never meant for his ears, and he used this ability with cheshire glee. He was also an avid reader, and often took the liberty of ‘borrowing’ a book on his rounds from some unsuspecting victim. He was clever, calculating, but kind as well, compassionate. He was respected – or feared – by all on the ship, even if he neither respected nor feared a number of the crew.

“Wow, I didn’t realise they were worth so much.” Thomas smiled, and proffered his small clothes basket full of his and Newt’s clothes. Winston emptied it into his bag of laundry, and returned the basket to the brunet.

“I hope that you’re not focussing on this dreadful gloom and doom business, like everyone else. It feels less like a ship and more like a mausoleum in here now.” Winston shed his washing bag and sat down on the bed beside Thomas. “I don’t understand why everyone is so worried. I’ve got faith in… well, I’ve got faith in Minho, anyway.”

Thomas turned around. “You don’t trust Alby?”

“Uh… no.” He didn’t care to elaborate. “So, tell me, how are your sleeping arrangements? Comfortable?”

“Enough, I guess.” Thomas kicked the mattress on the floor. It was thin, and lumpy at that. It hurt to sleep on his back, so he was now confined to sleeping on his sides. “Although I kind of wish that I had a proper bed.”

Winston chuckled at that confession. “Yes, well, I’m not sure anyone would be too willing give up theirs for you. Except maybe Newt.” He earned only a non-committal grunt. “Have you mentioned it to him?”

Thomas stared at the ground, not really sure what to say. Truthfully, the thought had indeed crossed his mind. And yet, he felt almost too embarrassed to ask for anything from Newt, ever since he had blown up about the underwear thing. He had felt Newt keep distance too, a lot of it, and he felt dreadfully guilty. They seemed to be glaciers, drifting apart ever so slowly, but always sharing the same sea, always able to spot each other in the distance. The problem was, Thomas was unsure if he liked it better this way or not. This way, there was never any danger, he would never ever be caught out – but loneliness was the payoff for the erasure of risk. Thomas hated it, though, hated being alone. He hated loneliness and he hated familiarity.

“Perhaps you could suggest a roster, or something, so neither of you has it all shucked.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Or maybe,” added Winston, a steely mischief in his eyes, “you could share a bed?”

“I – I don’t… that’s not –“

“You know, top to toe, if you’re worried about being too… familiar.”

“Look, Winston, I’m not, I’m not going to suggest that, alright?” Thomas was still spluttering, and a deep blush was threatening to conquer his cheeks. The cleaner looked at him up and down, judging him, no doubt, although Thomas confessed to be quite unsure of the criteria. He kept his eyes closed, and hoped rather desperately that Winston would leave him alone again.

“Why?”

Thomas had been dreading that question. Perhaps it was because, off the top of his head, he didn’t really have an answer. Or perhaps, it was because, deep down, he really did have an answer, an answer that he didn’t really want to dig up. Once an archaeological dig has been started, no one knows just how many hidden, buried items can be found. No one ever puts anything back into the dirt, decides that it would be better kept hidden. Once an excavation has been started, there’s really no stopping it, and no one stops to wonder why such things were hidden.

“Is it because he’s gay, Thomas? Is it? Because –“

“No!” exclaimed Thomas, wild-eyed. “Well… yeah, but not –“

“Are you scared that he’ll… make a move?”

Thomas breathed in to calm his pounding heart. “No… I’m scared that I will.”

Winston’s eyes lit up with excitement; he had the gossip he came for. “Ah.” He placed a gentle hand on Thomas’ shoulder, squeezed it, and smiled. “Well then, I trust you to make the right decision. You might as well be happy, Thomas. After all, we’re all gonna die soon.” And with that devious grin still plastered on his face, Winston picked up his bag of laundry and left Thomas alone.

And alone Thomas wanted to be.

 

***

 

“Newt, could I, er, talk to you for a second?” Alby sat down on the couch next to Newt, eyes scanning the games room for people who might overhear. Ben was seated a few chairs over, brows knitted together, struggling, it seemed, to read a book. Zart and Chuck played a raucous game of table tennis further over, both determined not to let the other win. A couple of other boys sat at the other end of the room, controllers in hand, playing a loud and violent video game.

Newt sat up abruptly, embarrassed to be caught sleeping in the middle of the day, especially by the ship’s captain. He didn’t really enjoy sleeping on the sofa, but it sure beat going back into his room to face the almost de rigeur awkwardness and silence. Over the past few days, it felt like nothing had gone right, like every pillar of Newt’s life had crumbled down. He had lost all control over his life, and could only sit back and hope that others would succeed. There was nothing he could do to fix his friendship with Thomas; he had to wait for the other to be ready to fix it. There was nothing he could do to fix the ship’s course; he had to wait for others to hack in and reroute the _WCKD_. There was really nothing he could do at all, except for play his stupid little part as the stupid little gardener, forever at the mercy of others.

“Sure thing, cap.” He rubbed a some sleep out of his eyes and tried to smooth his hair a little, with no success.

“I just wanted to know what you, uh, thought about Thomas and Teresa. You know, you, um, you share the room with Thomas, so I guess you probably know the most about him out of everyone here.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Newt stared at the other man. He obviously hadn’t shaved in a few days, and a black stubble coated the lower half of his face. He looked, Newt realised, completely exhausted. His eyes were bleary, almost struggling to focus, and dark shadows ringed them. His lips were chapped, and as Newt watched him, Alby seemed to bite the inside of his cheek. He had run out of strength. His situation had overcome him, and he sat here now with nothing left in the tank. “You look like you need some shut-eye, mate.”

Alby grimaced. “I need a ship that’s going in the right direction.”

Newt nodded. The whole situation was shucked, to be honest. He was surprised that Alby had managed to keep the crew from completely panicking for so long. “Um, well, what do you want to know about Thomas? I don’t really know that much myself, but I’ll try and fill in gaps or whatever.”

“Why is he here, Newt?”

“I don’t know, Alby.” He smiled ruefully. “I – I don’t know.” Newt cast his eyes down to the ground, surveying the hideous grey-speckled carpet that covered the games room. He wondered why it was chosen, why that dreadfully depressing, solemn colour was chosen for a ship that was supposed to be a happy place, a place of colour. For Newt, outer space had always been about colour – about the brilliant oranges and purples, the blues, the green, the reds and the yellows. Sure, most of space was devoid of colour, a monotonous black. But every so often, there’d be a planet of blinding blue, or a brilliantly red star, or a moon which shone orange, or a shimmering green galaxy. Nothing repeated itself; that was the beauty of nature in space. No matter the size, the scale, everything was unique.

Except the hideous carpet.

It was odd, how only mankind valued sameness. Only mankind produced something to be exactly the same as the one before and exactly the same as the one after it. Newt could bet that there were millions of meters of this carpet on Earth, all the same. Where had individuality and uniqueness gone? Why was the imperfect hated, scorned, rejected, and the perfect idolised, praised? There may be a million examples of perfection, but just one inimitable example of imperfection. To Newt, it was an honest mystery, perhaps a criticism of human nature. It didn’t matter to him anymore, anyway. He would deal with Mother Nature a lot more than with human nature, from now on, if they ever managed to fix the ship.

Alby cleared his throat. “A lot of money was paid to get Thomas and Teresa on this ship, Newt. Enough to buy a whole new ship, apparently.”

“Oh.”

“Are you sure you don’t know anything, Newt?”

He shook his head. “No, Thomas doesn’t talk about that, at all!”

“Yeah, well, there’s something else, too.” Alby’s voice had gotten louder, and Newt could tell that Ben was no longer reading his book. Chuck and Zart had finished their game and left the room, and the two playing a video game were thankfully quite out of earshot. “I lied when I said that there was no message that came with the change in coordinates. There was a message, Newt, from Ava Paige.” Ben had raised his eyebrows, and was trying to cover his face with the book. “Do you know what it said? It said that _we_ all had to die, because somebody needed to get rid of _Thomas and Teresa_.”

Newt was silent. It couldn’t be. It… not Thomas. He clenched his jaw. A million half-formed questions raced through his mind – why would? and who? how did? and what about Teresa? His eyes scanned the carpet for answers, finding none. Newt stuttered in confusion as Ben quietly slipped out of the room, a small smile on his face.

“Are you… are you sure? Because I, I mean, I think he, uh, he would’ve, um, I think he would’ve told us, or, or me, if someone, you know, wanted him dead! That’s, that’s a big shucking thing to, uh, to forget, you know.”

“He hasn’t told you anything about himself, Newt!”

“I… I know, but, uh –“

“You don’t know who he is!” Alby stared at Newt intensely, eyebrows drawn together a little, eyes unblinking. And Newt knew that Alby was right, that he had no idea who Thomas was. His whole vision of the brunet was riddled with lacunae, with emptiness; he barely even knew an outline of a person.

“I’m gonna find out,” declared Newt. “I’m gonna find out who he is, and why he’s here – why _they’re_ here – and why no one knows who he is.”

Alby nodded in acquiescence. “If it’s true, and he’s the reason why we’re all headed towards a giant shucking black hole, well, then what?”

“I don’t know,” replied Newt, and bit his thumbnail. “I don’t know.”

 

***

 

Teresa hated being here, with the engineers. Gally, the smarmy villain, and Ben, the brainless sidekick. The whole atmosphere in the engine room was soured by their mere presence. Work that Teresa would otherwise look forward to now loomed, the engine room transformed into a torture chamber.

Teresa had always been the smartest girl in her class. She was the smartest girl, and Tom was the smartest boy. The would always vie for the smartest in the class, but she usually came out on top, something she never took for granted. She worked hard, and she studied hard, and she reaped the rewards. Her parents had always been very proud, and even after she’d been sent to boarding school, they would always make an effort to come out to most of the award ceremonies she was recognised at. She was, in many ways, a teacher’s pet, not because she would suck up to them, but because she would create bonds with them, treat them more like friends than teachers. She had always found that other students would never give teachers a chance, would rather rebel against or simply ignore them.

She had, naturally, been doing extremely well in her final year at school before they’d left. She was a maths whiz – that was her thing; she excelled at logic, while Thomas excelled at creativity. Maths, the sciences, geography. She was number one in all of them.

It had almost made it harder, leaving so suddenly. It felt like Teresa had more to lose, more potential that would never be fulfilled. It stung, knowing how good a life she had left behind, all for Tom. She knew that she couldn’t blame him, not in the slightest, as it had been her idea not to leave him alone, to follow him here, wherever _here_ was. It wasn’t his fault that they were on this spaceship. But not being able to blame him made it, in many ways, harder for her to bear her losses. There wasn’t someone close upon whom she could project her fury, her anger, her sense of betrayal.

There was, however, Gally, and Teresa knew, from the moment that she was told to work with him, that one of them would survive and the other wouldn’t. Not survive, as in one of them would die, but survive, as in one of them would win. And Teresa fully intended to survive.

The whirring of machinery and the flashing of buttons and instruments was almost an overload to the senses in here. The computers were all next door, in Gally’s office; here were the guts of the ship, the tips of the iceberg which could be repaired if necessary. It smelled strongly of oil and grease, and much of the metal was slimy and black to touch. A heavy and humid taste pervaded the air, cut through only by the panic of Gally as he dropped a lid through the metal grate on the floor.

“SHUCK IT!” he exploded, and not for the first time that day. When his temper recovered, he turned to Teresa, his eyes still furious. “Well, pick it up!”

The actual floor was not so far below the metal grate upon which they walked, but the grate was thin enough that Gally’s thick arms had no chance of squeezing through. Teresa, a little lither and a little thinner, could manage to stick an arm through, and had been tasked with that job many times that day. She couldn’t help but feel it was a little demeaning though.

“How about you just don’t drop it, dickhead.”

Gally’s eyes narrowed. “You wanna speak back to me, you little bitch?”

“Honestly, I don’t want to speak to you at all, Gally, but here we are.” Teresa plastered a saccharine smile on her face, enjoying the little bits of spittle congregating in the corners of his mouth.

“I don’t know who the _shuck_ you think you are –“

“The name’s Teresa, sweetie –“

“- but if you don’t pick up that lid, you’ll regret it.”

Teresa battered her eyelids. “I think you’ll regret making me regret not picking up the lid, because you can’t pick up what I can pick up, and you know what? I’m picking up a sense of regret from you after threatening to make me regret not picking up the lid that, oh, I’m sure, you regret you can’t pick up.”

“Go to hell.”

“With you, darling,” sang Teresa, as she bent down to grab the lid, “I’m already there.” She tossed the lid at Gally’s scowl and he caught it, still staring her down. As he fit it back on whatever machine it had come from, there was a knock on the heavy metal door into the engine room, and Ben strutted in, eyes ablaze with delight.

Teresa could picture him scream “Master! Master!” as he waddled over to Gally, eyes pointing reverently at the ground, hands clasped above his head, waiting for permission from the head engineer to speak. It was pitiful, really.

In reality, he strode over, grinning, mischievous. “You’ll never believe what I just heard – actually, _she_ shouldn’t be here to hear it.” He thrust his head in Teresa’s direction.

“Oh?” Teresa was intrigued. Whatever could be so dreadful that her delicate ears couldn’t bear it?

“Shuck off, hag.” Gally glowered at her and Teresa returned his stare, unimpressed and unafraid.

“Why don’t you _shuck off_ , mate? Go to your office, and leave here the person who knows what they’re actually doing.” Gally and Ben swapped glances, and then, almost in sync, lumbered out of the room. _Perfect_ , thought Teresa, _now I’ll be able to eavesdrop on them_. If they’d been in the engine room, she wouldn’t have been able to hear a thing through the thick, noise-cancelling metal door.

Teresa propped herself below the rather thinner door and strained her ears to the hushed conversation. From what she could gather, Alby had received a message from that ghastly woman, Ava Paige, blaming someone for the coordinate switch. But hadn’t the order come from Earth? Teresa was confused, and shut her eyes to hear better.

“How come we haven’t found a message, then?”

“Because we haven’t been looking, shuck-head!” a snarky Gally replied. “Alby told us there was no message – how come he’d hide it if it blamed them? He wouldn’t protect them, not with something like this.” Teresa heard a huff, and assumed it was from Ben. “We need to log on to the computers and go through all the logs within an hour of the order. We must have missed something.”

“Or else it’s been encrypted,” offered Ben. “And what if it is their fault, you know? They look like they’re running from something.”

Teresa frowned. Why say ‘they’? Multiple people? Everyone pretty much male on the ship, except, of course, Teresa, so concealing the gender of this scapegoat seemed pretty useless.

“Something’s fake about this, mark my words. As much as I hate them, Thomas and Teresa aren’t –“

Teresa could hardly breathe. Time seemed to stop, and the walls seemed to crash in on her. She – they – responsible for this? It was terrifying, absurd – and very, very possible. She had thought that, when she and Thomas had left, that would be that. It would be over. Chapter finished, book closed. They were promised that, after everything, they needn’t be hurt, or disposed of: merely forgotten. That was why they were on the ship – to be forgotten. To nullify the danger that they posed. But what if – what if that hadn’t been enough?  What if they needed to be destroyed, to tie up loose ends and so on?

Teresa felt ill, felt like retching onto the floor beneath her. She needed to go, needed to tell Thomas, needed to explain that they were still being hunted, that nowhere was safe for them, that promises didn’t mean shit. She needed to make a plan with him, to decide what to tell people, to decide what to hide away forever.

“Ben, if you find anything, take it to Minho, not Alby. We can trust Minho, definitely.”

Teresa scampered to her feet and ran into the comfort of the engine room before Gally left his office. She meted out her breath by the regular beats of the machines around her, and she soon calmed down enough to face the facts. She hated him, but Gally was right – why would Alby not reveal the message? And why wouldn’t he tell Teresa and Thomas first? Didn’t it concern them the most? Still, she needed to warn Tom that there was a rumour going around and, as it seemed that Gally wasn’t coming back, she decided to slip out of the engine room and find her brother. If she was right, he was probably working somewhere in the greenhouse right now.

She gently closed the metal door and skulked along the hallway, cautious of being seen by either Gally or Alby. She sidled along to the nearest door to the greenhouse, and spotted Tom amongst the rice plants, a huge watering can attached to his back like a rucksack. The nozzle sprayed water like a fine mist, and a rainbow reflected in the lights. It was a beautiful scene, and Teresa couldn’t help but smile at the beauty that Tom was so often oblivious too.

“Teresa!” She turned around to find Newt jogging towards her. “Teresa, I – we need to talk.”

Something was different in his eyes, something had changed. The laughter had changed to a wariness – a fear. Newt was scared.

And for the first time, Teresa was scared too.


	4. Going, going

Everything was quiet, for Thomas. The mist of water, as it drenched the rice plants. The gentle chatter of Chuck and some other boy, a few rows away. The pair of ladybirds fluttering their wings to one another, having somehow made their way on the ship. Thomas wondered at them, two tiny beings in the vastness of space, totally alone – and yet with each other, never lonely. He envied them, even. He knew it sounded ridiculous, being jealous of a couple of runaway ladybirds; but there it was, jealousy. He was more alone than they ever would be.

People seemed to avoid him here. Maybe it was just because they already had their friends. From what he could gather, they had all spent the last two months together, 24 hours a day, in eager preparation for the mission. And now, of course, it had all gone to shit.

And maybe it was better that way. Thomas had never wanted to be in space, to leave Earth, to go live on another planet. Maybe this black hole was a blessing, a mercy to him; a silent, black saviour to take all the misery and regret away. Or maybe not – maybe it was a punishment, sent down from up high. Either way, it existed and, truth be told, there seemed little way of avoiding it. Gally and Ben had been so far unable to hack the computer which was so mercilessly sending them to their deaths. It wouldn’t be long until they reached the hole, and then?

One ladybug flew away, all of a sudden, its wings whirring. The second looked around for a moment, lost, until its eyes fell on the first. It took off, as Newt and Teresa hurriedly approached Thomas.

“Tom!” Teresa was frowning. “We need to talk.” Thomas knitted his brows together, confused why, of all people, _Newt_ was with her. His mouth open, his eyes accidentally locked with Newt’s, unable to pull away. Those dark brown eyes were black holes in their own right, pulling everything towards them, consuming. Thomas couldn’t detect any emotion in those eyes; not fear, nor anger, nor confusion, nor joy, nor love. Only around the eyes, in the furrowed brow and the twitching lips, could Thomas see what Newt was thinking. He blinked down, embarrassed to have been so caught in those eyes.

“Shall we go to our bedroom?” proffered Newt, more to Teresa than to Thomas. She nodded, and Thomas couldn’t help but wonder how long the two of them had been planning such an ambush. He could do nothing but take off his watering pack and follow, silent as ever. He stared at the ground the whole way, ignoring the concerned looks from Teresa and Newt. He stared at the ground as Newt held the door open for him, and he stared at the ground as he sat beside his sister.

“So.” Only when Newt spoke did Thomas look up, let himself be caught in those honey eyes again, like a little black fly. He could resist as much as he wanted but, deep down, Thomas knew that those eyes were irresistible, inescapable. “I think… I think I need to know why you’re here. Both of you.”

Teresa squeezed her brother’s hand and nodded her head. He squeezed back, maybe a little too hard, but it was clear from the expectant faces that he would have to answer Newt’s question. He cleared his throat.

“Oh.” Silence. “Do you want the long answer or the short one?” Silence. A little nod from Newt, barely perceptible, barely noticeable had Thomas not been staring into those eyes. He looked down again, trying to find something in the room to fixate upon. “You want the long one.”

“Is that –“

“Yeah, it’s, uh, it’s fine, I’ve just… never really put the whole story together, I guess. Or told anyone, except Teresa.” Newt nodded in understanding. “I mean, I guess I’ll start at the start.”

Teresa’s thumb began to stroke the back of his hand. He sighed deeply. “So, we both come from a big farm. A huge farm, actually. One of the biggest in the States. And this means, of course, we both come from a long line of farmers. Sixteenth generation farmers. The, uh, the business is huge, like tens of millions of dollars huge, and for farmers, it’s always about the next crop, not the current. Foresight is the single most important tool that a farmer can have.” Thomas bit his lip.

“And so, from the moment we were born, Teresa and I were raised to be farmers. For me, as the boy, the one who would carry on the Edison name, it was just common sense that the majority of the farm would end up being passed on to me. That’s how the world goes. Obviously it’s not fair, obviously it’s fucking ridiculous, but… our father was –“

“- Not easily dissuaded from his beliefs.” Thomas nodded at Teresa in gratitude. He chuckled a little and shook his head, eyes closed hard.

“No, he wasn’t. But, truthfully, our childhood was fine. It did everything a childhood should, I guess; we learnt how to walk, talk, how to act, how to farm. Teresa could do her twelve times tables by the age of eight. I got really good at drawing. I got a dog when I was eleven. I don’t know, I guess we were happy enough children, anyway. Maybe even happier than average. We were pretty rich, although we didn’t realise until we got older and saw that some people aren’t.”

Newt remained silent, nodding at all the right moments, drinking the information in. His eyes were still boring into Thomas, trying to uncover everything that had remained so hidden. And for once, Thomas let them in.

“Nothing much happened until we were sixteen and we got sent to boarding school. It was a nice school, kind of prestigious, but there was also a lot of kids on scholarships who weren’t really rich. I guess that leaving home sort of… opened our eyes. It gave us a bit of individuality.”

“I had this friend at boarding school, he was from a farm, just like me. Only theirs wasn’t a big farm, so he wasn’t rich or anything, he was on a scholarship. But anyway, his name was Archie. And, I don’t know, we were pretty inseparable, I guess. We did sport together, we were in the same classes, he even enjoyed painting like me. We, um… we were really good friends.” Thomas trailed off, as the images swam through his mind. The smile, with all those crinkles next to the eyes. The golden-brown hair, how it shuddered in the breeze. The little dark mole high on the cheek. The thick eyelashes framing those striking blue eyes.

Those eyes had always been so memorable, so easily burned into the brain. They were a difficult colour to describe; not quite the colour of the sea, not quite the colour of the sky. They were deep, cavernous, so easy to fall into. They were enchanting, enslaving even. Every moment not looking into those eyes felt like a moment wasted, a moment not lived to its fullest potential. Every glance into them revealed something new, another secret. Truthfully, the only other eyes perhaps comparable were Newt’s.

Thomas wiped a solemn tear away as he stared at Newt’s eyes, realising just for the first time what he recognised in them – that same spark that so electrified Archie’s eyes. “Sorry. I, uh, I thought I might get through this without… but obviously not.”

“I can take over, if you want?” Teresa gripped his hand again, hard.

“It’s alright T, I can… I know it a bit better than you do.” He returned the squeeze. “Anyway, you can probably see where this is going. One day, when we were all alone, and we were talking about… I don’t know, graduation or something. And I just remember telling him that I would miss him, and I was looking into his eyes – they were so… – and then he leaned over, towards me. And he put his hand in my hair, and I just remember being so scared and confused. But his eyes were there, always comforting me. And he leaned in further, and he kissed me, and suddenly everything kind of just made sense. It was as if my life had been just a series of unconnected lines and now, just for one moment, all those lines suddenly joined up together.”

“So I closed my eyes, and I kissed back, and I was happy in a way that I could never before have imagined being happy. Not like sexually, or anything, just like… spiritually.” Thomas looked up from the ground. “It was like a certain section of my brain had been totally shut off, blocked, locked away. But every second with Archie opened that door just a little further, melted the barrier just a little more. It was… I mean, even trying to put it into words right now, it’s impossible. It’s something that’s undescribable. Indescribable. Whatever. It was beautiful, and pure, and blissful.”

Newt sat opposite, looking for words to say. “I –“. He gulped. His mouth was dry. “I wasn’t sure. I hoped, you know, but I was never sure.” Thomas stared at him, silent; there was no emotion on his face, save for a tear winding its salty way down to his mouth. He nodded slowly, then grimaced.

“That’s not it, though. Archie and I were, well, together, I suppose, for a few months before someone ratted us out. I never knew who, but I guess it doesn’t matter too much. It was bound to happen eventually. No prestigious farming family in America wants a gay son. I was a hot topic, I guess, good gossip. And so eventually the news made its way back to my family, to my father, a sixteenth generation Edison. I didn’t know, of course, that the secret was out, until my father rang me out of the blue. I was called to the principal’s office, sat on a chair and given a phone, and that’s the moment everything good in my life ended.”

“He made me admit what I am. He spat the word out, like it was a curse. _Gay_. As if there could be nothing worse in this world. He told me how ungrateful I was, what a disgrace to my family name I was. How could the Edison name carry on if I was gay? How could there be eighteenth generation Edison farmers if I was gay? How could, how could, how could? And at one point, I just shut off. I just… The principal, he was standing opposite me, hearing everything my father was saying, and yet too embarrassed to look me in the eye. He stood there, as the tears streamed down my face, and did _nothing_.”

By now Thomas’ eyes were red and puffy, and Teresa was leaning against him, her head on his shoulder. She too was crying, the tears falling at angles to her face.

“I hung the phone up on my father, and I ran to find Archie. He was sitting, alone, on his bed, head in his hands, sobbing. He didn’t want to speak with me, but I didn’t want to leave. I couldn’t just leave him. He wouldn’t let me close, you know, wouldn’t let me touch him. Finally, he looked up at me, his beautiful eyes were suddenly hideous from pain. And you know what he said to me?” Thomas let out a sob. “He said ‘I wish I’d never met you.’”

Thomas collapsed back on the bed, suddenly powerless against the gravity. His body was so heavy, so laden with emotion, and his muscles were so weak. He lay there, silent but for the sobs, his mind writhing in agony. His breathing was ragged, his face contorted, his right hand clenching and unclenching whilst the left brushed the tears away.

“Before calling me, my father had made sure that Archie lost his scholarship. He had his cronies at the bank kick Archie’s parents off their farm. He’d even made sure that Archie’s mum lost her job as a kindergarten teacher. He had destroyed three lives, and it was all because of me.”

“I tried to comfort Archie, to explain, to apologise. He froze when I brushed his tears away, closed his eyes, tried to imagine that I wasn’t there. When I leant forward to kiss him, all he did was shake his head. His eyes, ruined, just stared at me. They told me to leave, to never come back. And so…” Thomas couldn’t finish the sentence.

“And so you left?” offered Newt. “You left, and you never came back.” A long, pained groan, a whimper, a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry, Thomas. Really, I…” Newt shook his head. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know… how to say the things that I mean, but, really, what happened to you was the most shucked thing I can imagine. It… you don’t deserve it, any of it. Any of this shit. You don’t deserve to… you’ve done nothing wrong, Tommy. I… I…” A deep breath. “You’re a beautiful person, Tommy, outside and inside. And I mean it. I just… I want to protect you, I really do, because when you feel pain, I can’t help but feel it too. I can’t help but want you to feel happy, and safe, and… I don’t know! I don’t know! I just… I don’t know how to word it, or explain it, or describe it, because it feels like words are just useless!”

“They are useless, but they still mean something.” Thomas was sat back up, his raven black hair completely messed up, his cheeks wet. “They, uh, they mean a lot, actually.” He shot Newt a grateful smile. “After that day, I left that boarding school for the local high school. Teresa too. For a whole year, I existed only in the classroom or my bedroom. I never went outside of the two. I couldn’t go out at lunch, I couldn’t go out at night. I was stranded, and I guess I was sinking.” Teresa nodded.

“And then one day, a few weeks ago now, something just kind of… _snapped_. I told my father that he couldn’t change me, that he had no control over me, that if I wanted to go out, I damn well would. And so he hit me. He hit me, his own son. And I hit him back, and he hit me back. And he hit me back, and he hit me back, and he hit me back. And I was on the floor, and I was bleeding, and he was too, a little, from his nose. And he hit me, and he kicked me, and he spat on me. Teresa came to help me, told him to leave me alone, so he called her a slut. He left me alone, but he told me that my days on this planet would be numbered. I thought it was a death threat, until I met Ava Paige.”

Here Teresa took up the story. “A plane landed on our farm a few days later, and our father dragged Tom and half a suitcase of clothes out to it. I told him that I was going to go with him. I just remember Mum, standing by the house, crying and saying _nothing_. I’d never hated her until that moment.” Teresa gulped, and wiped her nose. “The plane took us to Ava Paige, and Ava Paige took us to this ship. And now Ava Paige is trying to kill us.” Here she spun around to her brother. “She’s trying to kill _us_ , Tom.”

He spun around to Teresa, his eyes searching for answers. “Trying to _kill_ us? But we’re… we’re already out of the way! We don’t need to be… what do you mean, trying to kill _us_?”

It was Newt who answered. “Alby spoke to me. He, uh, he told me that there was a message, with the change in coordinates. That… the message was from Ava. She said that she had to get rid of you two.”

“But that doesn’t make SENSE!” Thomas exploded. “If there’s anything that my father cares about, it’s the family name. We’re here so we can look like two glorious fucking Edisons, exploring the cosmos for somewhere new to plant crops, I don’t know! But why the fuck would he pay so much money to get us on the ship, just to kill us? Why?! That’s not a good business deal, is it?”

“You’re right.” interjected Teresa. “You’re right, Tom, and I can’t… but… well, I heard it by eavesdropping on Gally and Ben, and honestly, they didn’t trust Alby. They hate us, Tom, but even they don’t believe Alby.”

Thomas allowed himself a moment to breathe. Maybe… maybe it wasn’t his fault, again. Maybe he hadn’t doomed 31 people to death, like he’d ruined the lives of Archie and his family. Maybe. He still wasn’t convinced.

Newt leaned forward. “Alby wouldn’t lie. I know him, I’ve known him for two months longer than the both of you have, and… he wouldn’t lie. Gally would lie, long before Alby would.”

“So you think this is our fault? My fault?” Thomas’ voice was shaky, unsure.

“No! Maybe? I… I don’t… I don’t know what to think. I don’t. Maybe Alby got it mixed up, or he –“

“He either lied or he didn’t, and it’s either our fault or it’s not. There’s no inbetween, Newt.” Teresa’s voice was angry, and she was tired. “You have to choose who to believe, and who not to believe.” She stared at Newt, impatient. He gulped, eyes flickering from the colourless ground to the colourless wall, not sure where to look. Finally, his eyes rested on Thomas.

“I… um. I’m gonna go talk to Alby.” Newt stood up. “I – I believe you, Tommy. And you Teresa. I trust you both. Really. I’m not so great with words, but I want to be here for both of you.”

“Thanks.” Thomas shot the blond a quick smile, a flash, but a sincere flash. He wasn’t quite sure what he was feeling. Was it relief, to finally have everything off his chest? Or was a deep-seated fear that maybe, just maybe, it really was his fault that they were all careering for a black hole? What was it, that he felt for Newt? Was it something more than he’d thought possible? Or was it still distrust? Was he ready for… something? He had no idea.

As Newt closed the door behind him, Thomas and Teresa collapsed back on the bed, together, grateful for each other. They were each other’s most steadfast ally, most trusted friend. They were family, and that was something that was unique on the ship. Theirs was a bond unbreakable, a love unshakeable. They knew always what the other was thinking, and just a simple glance into the eyes of the other would confirm everything they thought. They grasped each other’s hand, and suddenly, they were all that existed, all that was and all that would ever be. That touch, that little crackle of electricity flowing between hands was all they needed to survive. With each other, life and death were nothing; black and white in a world full of colour. And it was a world which Thomas never wanted to leave.

 

***

 

_Bang_. How could he have fucked that up? _Bang_. He was so stupid, so fucking dumb, an absolute shank. _Bang_. His head hurt. _Bang_. He deserved it though, for being so stupid. _Bang_. He wanted to help and he made things worse. _Bang_. He just wanted to help Thomas, and he made him feel like shit. _Bang_. But Alby wouldn’t lie, would he? He was – _Bang_ – a good guy, trustworthy, a good captain. _Bang_. When would it all make sense? And what would it matter, if they were all going to die anyway? _Bang bang_. Of course it mattered, because Thomas mattered, and it wasn’t his fault. He was right, what kind of business deal would that be, to pay millions and millions just to kill them in space? _Bang_. But why were they all speeding to a giant black hole then? It was no mistake that the coordinates changed to that exact spot. _Bang_. Maybe he should leave the wall alone.

Newt turned around and rubbed his forehead. It was a little red. He wasn’t really sure where he wanted to go. He’d told Thomas and Teresa that he would go see Alby, but now, he wasn’t sure. He was scared, probably, deep down, that he’d find out that Alby was a liar, or that Thomas was… anyway. Really, there was no winning if he went to see Alby. He’d rather go see Frypan, and grab something to eat. That’s what he’d do. Eat his feelings away.

He knew Alby, didn’t he? They weren’t friends, per se, but they were close. Alby didn’t really have any friends. During the training months he’d spent most of his time doing specialised training with Ava, learning how to captain a ship of 29 young men. Newt could imagine that it would be rather difficult, and he certainly didn’t envy Alby his job. He did spend quite a bit of time in his office, but after all, he was the captain and he did a damn good job of captaining. He got on with most everyone, he knew how and when to use his authority, and he wasn’t scared of anyone. Perhaps that was his strength, thought Newt. His bravery, or his courage, or just that lack of fear that people would never take him seriously. Alby was calm, he was cool in mind and in spirit. He was trustworthy. Or so Newt had thought.

But why would Alby then blame everything on Thomas and Teresa? It made no sense, he didn’t ever seem to be against them, he even got angry at Gally for being against them! He didn’t hate them, and yet he was, in no uncertain terms, placing the sole blame for the crew’s impending death at the feet of the twins. Newt couldn’t help but feel like he was missing a link in the chain, like there was something vital that he saw but was blind to. He willed his eyes to open, but to no avail; he couldn’t find what he was looking for. _It doesn’t matter_ , he told himself, _let’s just get some food and relax_.

He passed through the greenhouse, admiring the giant columns which housed the leafy greens, great pillars of vibrant colour. His eyes turned to the sky, he tripped over the sprayer that Thomas had earlier left lying on the ground. It looked so stranded, nozzle askew, water leaking out a little. So forlorn a scene, so desolate a scene, Newt couldn’t help but frown. He bent down, studying the watering pack, before picking it up.

“Where’s Thomas?”

Chuck was stood there, one hand deep in his overall’s pocket, the other aimlessly spraying water at the rice. His inquiring eyes were directed straight at Newt, as was his easy smile. He really was still a kid, with all the innocent glee and naiveté becoming of a child. He couldn’t quite imagine that simple questions sometimes have difficult answer, or that simple answers could sometimes accompany difficult questions.

Or maybe he was smarter than he looked. “He’s feeling sick, he said. Wanted me to put away his pack.” Here Newt lifted up the sprayer in his hand.

“Oh, ok.” Chuck looked down, but didn’t leave. He shuffled his feet, clearly wanting to ask something.

“Um…”

“Do you want to look at my tomatoes?” It caught Newt off guard, surprised him. After the day he’d had, it felt like nothing so mundane as tomatoes could even exist. They had no part to play in the conspiracy, had no enemies or friends – did they truly even exist? But of course, they did. Newt stuttered a yes, and was led to a lone tomato plant which, truth be told, looked like it had seen much better days. It was green, and presumably healthy, and yet seemingly tortured and twisted. Its stem seemed to curl. Its leaves were small, weak.

“So, there’s a competition going on, between me and Zart, and almost everyone’s placed bets. Do you want to put one on me?” Chuck’s winsome smile was hopeful, his shining eyes even more so.

“Can I see Zart’s plant before I make a decision?” This made Chuck’s smile a little dourer, and once Newt found Zart’s tomatoes, he understood why. The stem was thick, and there were little green tomatoes starting to form already. It was a tall, majestic plant, a peacock of a plant, towering over Chuck’s mere sparrow. “If I’m honest with you, Chuck, this shank’s plant seems a little better. I’ll give you a chance though. Tell me, why should I place my bet with you?” It was impossible not to smile at Chuck.

“Um, well, there’s a big block of chocolate for the winners, and if you side with me, you’ll get a third of the block, which is like, heaps. Also, if you side with the other team you’ll get nothing because they’re going to lose. I mean, obviously I can’t promise you anything, because I can’t time travel or anything, but I can pretty much guarantee that at the end of the day, I’m gonna have the biggest tomato.”

“A third? Does that mean –“

“Yeah. So far there’s only me and Thomas.” Chuck showed him the slip of paper with everyone’s names, all but one of them in Zart’s column. But Newt recognised the writing immediately, before he even read the name. He’d obsessed over the script for about a week, studying a postcard that Thomas kept in the room and had obviously written with no intention of ever sending. The stems of the letter were long, the h’s starting high up and the m’ and n’s finishing quite low. It was a very careless font, messy, elegant nonetheless.

Thomas. Thomas was on Chuck’s team. Thomas had given his confidence to Chuck, had committed himself to Chuck’s side. What was it that Newt had said to Thomas? _I trust you_. _I believe you_. _I’m here for you_. Words were useless, that’s what he had said. But actions, actions were something a little more definite.

“Sign me up, Chuckie boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so I know I took like an 8 month hiatus but heaps of stuff has been going on, my laptop was wrecked and fixed, I finally achieved my dream of moving to Berlin after school, I accidentally joined a cult over here, I finally escaped them again and now, just maybe, I can do some proper writing. Fingers crossed ay


End file.
